


Breakfast After 10

by NoSarcasmForYou



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoSarcasmForYou/pseuds/NoSarcasmForYou
Summary: Just a regular day in Heavens Arena.





	1. Barren

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is just a writing exercise in which I attempt to improve the way I describe things. 
> 
> English is my second language, so feel free to point out any mistakes you find.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi enjoys a quiet morning.

As he watched the sun rise over the ocean of rooftops spread under his feet, glass facades glittering like water, Illumi had to admit Heavens Arena was…not without its merit. 

 

There was something to be said about being so high up in the sky, looking down at the world and its people, scattering like ants on the streets, oblivious to their own fragility, their inconsequence; Carrying on while stronger beings lived rightfully high above them. 

 

The luxuries awarded to floor masters were also a nice touch. 

 

It was nothing compared to what Kukuroo Mountain offered, of course, but he had long gotten used to doing with less when he needed to. 

 

Still, a butler or two would’ve been nice. 

 

Illumi carried that thought as he made his way to the kitchen, bare feet slapping on cold marble floors; He briefly considered retrieving his slippers from the bedroom but decided against it, 

 

He wanted to enjoy his morning tea in peace and quiet and the longer he took making it, the more he risked Hisoka returning before he was ready to see him.

 

The kitchen was almost bare, the only evidence that someone actually lived there were the dirty dishes on the sink and the groceries he had brought with him the night before, having anticipated the barren state of the kitchen.

 

He put the kettle on and looked through the cabinets, finding his tea container in exactly the same spot as he had left it the month before; Part of him wanted to believe it was out of respect for his possessions, but he knew better. It was far more likely than Hisoka had simply forgotten the container was there. 

 

If he had noticed it in the first place. It wouldn’t surprise him if the magician hadn’t touched that cupboard in all that time.

 

Despite living there for well over a year now, the magician had never made an effort to make the place his own; Sure, there was evidence of his presence if you knew what to look for, like decks of cards scattered all over the place or that lone earring on the coffee table, but for the most part the magician seemed genuinely content with what the penthouse had come equipped with in the first place. 

 

Illumi? Not so much. 

 

The throw blanket neatly folded on the sofa? His. 

 

The plush carpets spread here and there? His.

 

The growing pile of books on the coffee table? His. 

 

The stuffed tuxedo cat with blank black eyes gingerly perched on the back of the loveseat? ...He didn’t recognize it, but soon to be his. 

 

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the whistle coming from the kettle and soon, he had a warm cup of tea between his hands, a cup of tea he wasn’t allowed to pour any poison in, as he couldn’t trust Hisoka to wash it before using it and he didn’t want to kill the magician. 

 

Yet.

 

Tea in hand, the assassin went to inspect the stuffed toy. 

 

It was small, barely bigger than his hand, and almost weightless, seemingly made entirely out of fluff; In fact, if not for its pointed ears and long tail, he would be tempted to call it a giant dust bunny. 

 

It was more odd than cute, but he still placed it next to him as he sat down to enjoy his tea. A quiet, if absurd looking, companion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He supposed he needed to go find the other one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stuffed toy in question: https://fuzziggles.com/collections/cats/products/tuffy-tuxedo-the-black-and-white-cat-stuffed-plush-toy


	2. Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi looks for a certain magician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm splitting this otherwise short fic into various chapters because it's easier for me this way.

Illumi’s disdain for Heavens Arena was born from his own time in it.

 

Even as a child he had found the whole place ridiculous, with tacky stores, blinding screens, obnoxious music and crowds upon crowds of people, many of them far too boastful for their own good.

 

It was a place of entertainment first and a place of training second, which fit Hisoka just fine, but made Illumi grind his teeth hard enough to give him a headache; In fact, the only reason he even visited Hisoka was the magician’s status as a floor master, which gave him both an entire floor for himself _and_ a private elevator. 

 

Every once in a while, when Hisoka actually bothered to fight a challenger, the rabble from the streets would make their way to their floor and take over but most of the time the entire floor was a safe haven in an otherwise chaotic venue. 

 

Now, with the entire floor empty but for the two of them, tracking Hisoka’s nen was a laughably easy feat and his feet, now outfitted with soft slippers, carried him through the empty, almost sterile halls in the direction of the floor’s gym. 

 

After sliding his guest card through the lock, Illumi pushed the gym’s door open and entered, stepping over a pair of high-heeled shoes as he walked in. 

 

The gym was almost as large as the penthouse itself, which made sense, considering there were only so many things the designers could build to fill a floor meant for a single person; With ceilings so high the gym could be comfortably split into two levels and outfitted with enough equipment to fit any fighter’s needs, the place was _almost_ as good as his family gym and far better than anything he had seen anywhere else in the world. 

 

Messier too, he reflected, as his eyes scanned the area, noticing the huge, heavy, weights discarded on the floor and the cards embedded on both walls and equipment scattered across the room; The sight of the sleeveless shirt hanging from the parallel bars to his left was expected, though the dozens of half-finished card houses peppering what looked like a gymnastic floor mat almost made him smile. 

 

He scanned the place again, knowing full well the magician was in there _somewhere,_ though he couldn’t find him right away. Convinced the magician was somewhere in the dressing room, Illumi stepped deeper into the gym and that’s when he felt it. 

 

He was being watched. 

 

Of course, trust Hisoka to ruin a perfectly good morning by playing his tricks… or not, because almost immediately a burst of soft, pleased laughter uncovered the magician’s location.

 

The ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, feel free to point out any mistakes. That's how I learn. 
> 
> Comments are very appreciated.


	3. Weightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is well learned is never forgotten.

“Missed me so soon?”

 

The magician was suspended mid-air, not by Bungee Gum, as Illumi had originally assumed, but rather by some kind of straps as thick around as his wrist, one slung underneath Hisoka’s knees, the other around the man’s wide back.

It seemed like an almost comfortable position, laying mid-air as one would on a lounge chair, and Hisoka’s relaxed if somewhat mirthful expression indicated the same.

 

Illumi knew better.

 

“What are you doing?” He asked, positioning himself underneath the magician so he could get a better look at the straps. There were more than the ones Hisoka was using, he could see them now, as well as the strange contraption holding them in place.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen in a gym and, as Hisoka let himself fall to the floor, pulling with him both straps, he realized why.

Though sudden, the fall was gracious, almost liquid, controlled entirely by Hisoka’s iron grip, and broken with the same ease.

 

It brought them inches apart. Illumi, standing upright and Hisoka, upside down, suspended vertically in the air.

 

“I couldn’t sleep” Explained the magician, holding the position long enough to press a quick, dry kiss to the assassin’s forehead. “I figured I’d train for a bit.”

Judging by the state of the man’s sweat-matted hair and the discarded equipment, Hisoka has been there for more than ‘a bit’.

“You smell.” He informed the redhead, which earned him a pout so tempting he had to sit down to avoid kissing it.

 

Hisoka brought his arms to his sides, which brought him closer to the assassin even as Illumi sat down, only to immediately spread them in a movement so powerful it moved his entire body upwards, giving him enough room to easily flip over, landing on the mat with almost weightless grace.

“I’ll shower...” The magician teased, walking circles around the assassin. Even though the redhead’s weight was mostly being held by the straps, allowing him to move around him with bare feet they barely scratched the floors, there was a predator like agility to it that made something in Illumi’s heart skip. “...if you join me.”

Illumi ignored the offer, too focused on Hisoka’s movements to pay attention to what the man was saying. Something all the fighters in Heavens Arena should learn to do.

 

He had wondered when he first had seen Hisoka in the air, why he was using straps instead of his trusty Bungee Gum, but as he watched the magician move around him, he realized that was the whole point of this exercise.

Hisoka didn’t talk much about his past, claiming he forgot everything about it, but as the magician’s large hands danced with practiced ease over the straps, adjusting his position just so in order to preserve the illusion of weightlessness, Illumi could tell Hisoka’s past wasn’t as forgotten as the man claimed.

 

“Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> As usual, feel free to point out any mistakes you may spot. :)


	4. Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing lasts forever.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he didn't regret them one bit; He had seen Hisoka fight, kill, swim, chase, and even dance, but he had never seen him do this. 

 

Hisoka, for his part, seemed almost as surprised, though he recovered quickly, a familiar confident smile spreading on his face as he stopped his half walk, half glide and came to a stop in front of Illumi.

 

For a moment, Illumi thought Hisoka was going to ask what he was talking about, but he didn’t. There was a flash of understanding in those golden eyes of his that spoke of unasked questions and their lack of answers, which disappeared as the redhead took a hold of both straps and brought them together, swinging them in wide circles once, twice, three times before letting go. 

 

The magician _soared_ through the air, turning in circles as he raised. His free arm stretched to the side, giving the whole spectacle an air of effortlessness that was enviable.

 

Illumi had the strength to do the same, and he had the coordination, but as he watched the magician twist mid-air into an almost fetal position and curl the straps around his waist, he realized he wouldn’t be able to do that. 

 

For all that they both enjoy blood, violence and the thrill of the kill, their skills were drastically different. 

 

He was a methodical, almost machine-like in his approach, trained from birth to kill as fast as efficiently as possible; Hisoka was an artist. A creature of grace and flimsy who had twisted his natural ability to bring beauty to the world into a thing of savage ruthlessness.

 

It was beautiful. 

 

Hisoka unfurled from his position and, once again, descended to the ground, a leg curled around the straps to guide his movement as a hand controlled his descent. His free one extended forward to gently bop the assassin.

 

Scrunching his nose, Illumi swatted the offending hand away, which earned him a laugh as the magician landed in front of him, leaning dangerously forward so he could look at the assassin’s face. 

 

“Enjoying the show?” 

 

He was, but admitting it seemed like a defeat of some kind, so he stayed quiet. Black staring into gold for what seemed like an eternity, interrupted as Hisoka fell forward so suddenly that Illumi couldn’t help but to raise his arms to stop the man from falling on him…

The fall never came. 

 

Hisoka was already in the air by the time Illumi realized he had been tricked. The deception should’ve annoyed him, but Hisoka wasn’t Hisoka without his tricks, and that knowledge brought a small, almost imperceptible, smile to his lips. 

 

Without nothing to do, or the desire to do anything even if he had, Illumi laid down on the mat and watched.

 

It was a shame, he decided, that Hisoka often chose to fight in the arena, away from beams or structures that could let him showcase skills unrelated to fighting… then again, knowing the man, he could probably turn each of those movements into an attack at the drop of a hat. 

 

Deciding to test his theory, he slipped one of his hidden needles out of his skin and tossed them at the magician, who reacted not by dodging or blocking as he had been expecting but rather by spinning. 

 

Whatever he had been doing with the straps allowed him to spin in place at a speed so dizzying Illumi couldn’t tell where the needle had ended, nor could he tell the magician had let go of the straps until he was almost upon him. 

 

Rolling out of the way in the last second, Illumi barely avoided Hisoka’s landing where his head had been just a fraction of a second before. 

 

“Attacking a man when he’s unarmed, my dear Illumi?” The magician tutted with no bite to his voice. In fact, he grinned, wide shoulders shaking in silent amusement.

 

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the assassin got to his feet and shrugged.

 

“It’s late. I’m hungry.” 

 

“And here I thought you came looking for me because you missed me so dearly.” 

 

“You have no food.”

 

“Ah, how cruel of me. Letting you starve.” The magician said as he approached him, rubbing his wrists absentmindedly. It seemed whatever mood Hisoka had been in to give Illumi a glimpse of his past was gone. 

 

The assassin willed himself not to be disappointed. 

 

“Breakfast?” The magician asked, going for a casual kiss, only to be stopped by a hand firmly pressed on his chest. 

 

“Shower first. You still stink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're done! 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around during this writing exercise! 
> 
> For those wondering, this is what truly inspired this whole fic:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXaGB46xgO0&t=1s
> 
>  
> 
> Once again, please feel free to correct any mistakes you see. English isn't my first language, so it's appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks again!


End file.
